MyCouponsBlog

New Years Resolutions

mycoupons — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 10:12:55 -0500

Hi everybody! Well the holidays are over, and as I can see from our shopping boards so is the holiday cheer! It’s January now and for those who've made one, you all started your New Year’s Resolutions! We all say we are going to lose weight, quit smoking, or budget our money better, but how many of us actually stick to it and reach our goals?

Each year I say I’m going to lose 10 lbs, stop cursing or start my retirement fund because, as my mother would say, even at 25 years young, it’s never too early! This year, I am determined to change some things in my life. I have ordered NutriSystem to help me get my diet back on track, I have started a curse jar where I’ll put in a dollar every time I swear, and I’m putting away a couple hundred dollars each paycheck to start saving money. After the scare with my dad, I’m also going to start going back to church (which should also aid in me talking like a sailor less, or let’s hope!)

Have you made a resolution? How successful have your past resolutions been? Visit The Café in our shopping boards and share your stories. And remember ladies, play nice

~Shauna~

One of my favorite party dips -- Spinach and Artichoke

mycoupons — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 09:50:32 -0500

I discovered this recipe a few years ago and I've made it a few times for friends. The last time was this past Saturday and it was gobbled up again with delight. Spinach and artichoke dip is a favorite of my wife and I and we use it as a bit of a test when dining out a casual restaurant. If the dip fails the test, the chances are we wouldn't go back, unless of course our diners are amazing.

This recipe is based upon the taste of a fantastic dip from the restaurant chain Houston's. It's really based upon a recipe I found at:
http://robbiehaf.com/Recipes/H/77.htm She has some great copy-cat recipes on her site for a bunch of dishes from popular restaurants.

It takes about 45 minutes or so to prepare and is enough for 10 to 12 people -- depending on how much the like it. The great thing is you can do all of the hard prep ahead of time and simply use your microwave when it's time for the party.

The ingredients include:

2 cloves garlic - minced
2 Tbls. minced onion
1/4 cup real butter
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups heavy cream -- I usually use half and half versus the heavy cream.
1/4 cup chicken broth
2/3 cup fresh-grated Romano cheese
2 tsp. fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1/2 tsp. hot sauce
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 cup sour cream
Two 10 oz. boxes frozen chopped spinach - thawed, squeezed dry through a fine sieve. It's vital that you get the spinach as dried as possible.
12 oz. jar artichoke hearts - drained and coarsely chopped
1/2 cup shredded white cheddar cheese

To get things started, sauté the onion and garlic in the butter using a 2-quart saucepan over medium heat. You want them to be golden brown and this will take about 5 minutes.
Once the onion and garlic are golden, stir in flour and cook for about a minute.
Next, slowly whisk in the cream and the broth and bring it up to a low boil.
Once it starts to boil, stir in the Romano cheese, lemon juice, hot sauce, and season with salt. Keep stirring until cheese has melted and then remove from heat and allow it to cool for about 5 minutes.
When it has cooled down, stir in the sour cream and fold in the dried spinach and the artichoke hearts.
Finally, fold the mixture into a microwave-safe serving dish and cover evenly with the cheddar cheese. Enjoy a glass of wine, the hard work is done.
Now you can store it in the fridge until you are ready to serve. Then all you need to do is pop it into the microwave on 50% power until the cheese melts.

I typically serve this great dip with pita, tortilla or bagel chips. It usually doesn't take too long for it to vanish. I also like to serve it up with a nice bottle of Chardonnay.

I've got another recipe I've used a couple of times that is much easier to make than this one -- less work, less time but also less tasty. It's fine but nothing special. This is the one I use when entertaining friends on a cold winter evening.

B.F.F.

mycoupons — Tue, 17 Apr 2007 06:30:21 -0400

Monday night, 10:00. I am sad. My best friend in the whole entire universe has packed her bags and is leaving on a jet plane early tomorrow morning.

On Thursday, Philadelphia Ginger arrived with Herr’s potato chips in tow. Ginger was smart enough this time to cut a small hole in the bags of chips to let out the air out before she transported them.

She learned this lesson the hard way. When she last visited me in December, she carried two family size bags of chips on board with her. Two hours into the flight, thirty-five thousand feet over Atlanta, the bags popped like cannons and exploded sour cream and onion all over the cabin.

Ginger said the sound from the explosion was loud enough to make people onboard scream. She wanted to crawl under her seat with embarrassment. When she deplaned, I met her with excited anticipation. She handed me two deflated, three quarter empty bags of chips.

According to Ginger, chips went flying everywhere. I am sure Southwest is still vacuuming up the crumbs. If you fly Southwest, check your seat back pockets for crumbs. If you find them, think of me.

Ginger and I have enjoyed five days of buffoonery and laughs. I can honestly say that my face hurts from laughing. Of course, with me around, most things are funny, but when you add Ginger to Cici you get comedy gold.

We have caused a ruckus in many eating establishments across my county, and were asked to leave the mall.

I feel somewhat sorry for the teenage Burger King drive-thru cashier, but let’s face the facts here; handing her monopoly money to pay for our order WAS funny.

Of course, most of the stories from our long weekend are not fit for public posting, as MyCoupons IS a family site, but I will share a true gem.

Yesterday, we decided to visit my favorite store, Goldman and Woodstein’s. You may have them in you area, under the name Goodwill. Going to the Goodwill is something I try to do weekly, as I usually find something worth buying.

Ginger, dressed in her Prada shoes felt like the proverbial fish out of water, but tried to put on her best face. She followed me around the store with her hands in the pockets of her $200 slacks; lest she touch any thrift store germs.

When I found a Blue’s Clues toy for my son marked $4, I was so excited. I turned it on, but it didn’t work. I took it to the front, and asked the sales clerk how I could test the toy before purchasing it.

She informed me that they had no way to test the merchandise, but offered me the good news, toys were 50% off!

When I pointed out that at $2 the toy was indeed a good deal, yet if it didn’t work, would be a bad purchase, she informed me I could purchase batteries at the rack at the back of the store.

I inquired about the return policy, and was told that electronics were sold as is, and were not returnable.

Here’s where things got ugly. I asked how much batteries were and was floored to learn they were $4 for an eight pack. FOUR DOLLARS!

Since it was half priced toy day, we were now looking at a hefty mark-up on the price of the toy, just to purchase batteries to test it.

Something about this situation appeared fishy, and Ginger asked the clerk what kind of battery trafficking racket they were running here.

As if we were in a cartoon, a light bulb came on over my head. I grabbed Ginger by the

purse strap and headed towards the tool department. I found a flat head and a Phillips head screwdriver and carried them back to the toy department.

Once there, I unscrewed the battery compartment from the back of the Blue’s Clue’s toy and removed the defunct batteries. I then searched through the other toys until I came across a singing Elmo doll. I unscrewed Elmo’s battery cover and removed HIS batteries.

I then pulled the old switcheroo, and put Elmo’s batteries in Blue. Instantly, the sound of Steve singing ‘Here’s the mail, it never fails, makes me want to wag my tail,’ filled the air.

I was victorious! I fought the Goodwill, and I won!

As we were checking out, the clerk reminded me that the toy was not returnable if it didn’t work.

In timing that could never be duplicated, Ginger reached over, pressed a button on the toy and we laughed our tushies off as Steve belted out ‘Thanks for doing your part; you sure are smart……we can do anything, we want to do!’

Out I walked with my $2 toy. I asked Ginger if she wanted to go to dinner, and she insisted I take her home for a shower.

That was a little over twenty-four hours ago. The toy has since had the batteries removed from it, because I swear if I heard the song one more time, I was going to snap.

I hope YOU have a bestest friend out there. They sure make life more bearable.

Until we meet again,

Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

P.S. I am having some dental work done today (Tuesday) and will most likely be passed out in a Vicodin coma for the rest of the day. There will be no blog tomorrow as I recover. Please check back Thursday morning!

Creature from the blue lagoon

mycoupons — Tue, 10 Apr 2007 06:45:00 -0400

Being that I am wholesome girl who was reared with proper morals and a sense of decency, I did not spend a night with my husband until we was my husband.

<B.S. Detector goes crazy> (Hey! My parents read this!)

Ok, so I spent a few nights with him.

I noticed his snoring right away. It was cute.

In a sleeping puppy kind of way.

Once we were married for a couple of years, the snoring become slightly more annoying.

I would solve the issue by gently nudging my sleeping prince. He would roll over and I

would fall back asleep.

By the time we hit our sixth anniversary last year, the snoring became so annoying that I contemplated smothering him in his sleep.

Instead of giving my prince a gentle nudge, I started kicking and elbowing the grizzly bear next to me.

I would wake up cranky and irritated every morning due to his snoring.

It was like sleeping in a really bad motel with thin walls on the interstate. The man snored like eighteen –wheelers downshifting.

As if the sound of the snoring wasn’t enough, I noticed he had a mild case of sleep apnea. He would stop snoring for a few seconds, and then like a swimmer coming up for air, gasp loudly for a breath.

I had a rule. I went to bed when I was tired, and Joey was NOT allowed to come to bed for at least forty-five minutes after me. That would give me adequate time to fall into a deep sleep, so once he revved up his engines; I would be deaf to the world.

When September came, I had reached my breaking point. I gave him an ultimatum- go for a sleep study and get this fixed, or he was moving into the guest room.

I have a king sized waterbed, you didn’t think I would move, did you?

He scheduled the sleep study- which entailed him spending the night at a sleep center.

The technician advised him that they would monitor his vitals while he slept all night, and then determine what if anything could be done.

He fell asleep at 10:15. By 12:30, the technician woke him up.

He had stopped breathing 264 times! TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY FOUR!! That’s 1.76 times PER MINUTE.

The technician also told him that he never entered deep or REM sleep.

She placed a CPAP (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) machine on him at that point.

He slept until 6:45 the next morning, and did not stop breathing once. He also entered deep sleep almost immediately.

When he came home the next morning, he told me he had sleep apnea.

I didn’t go to medical school, but I knew that already.

A few weeks later, his very own CPAP machine was delivered to our front door. He now wears it to sleep every night. He no longer stops breathing and his snoring is very light and rhythmic.

Although he looks like a creature from the deep while wearing it, we are both sleeping better. Our son is deathly afraid of it, and if he sees his daddy wearing it, he runs away crying.

Joey has stopped having headaches, has lost weight, and feels more rested.

There are still plenty of nights when I contemplate smothering him with a pillow.

But not because of the snoring.

Until we meet again,

Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

Why would you WANT to eat just one?

mycoupons — Tue, 03 Apr 2007 06:37:00 -0400

Much to the dismay of my zippers, I am a potato chip connoisseur.

There is something so delicious and perfect about a potato plucked out of the ground, sliced thin and deep fried.

I don’t know who designed the original potato chip, or how he did it, but wherever he is, I applaud him. The planets were obviously aligned in perfect symmetry on that sweet day.

Sure, I have my favorites. Salt and Vinegar Lays, Sour Cream & Onion Herr’s, and original flavor Cape Cod.

But, I do not discriminate. I am an equal opportunity eater.

I will try new flavors with an open mind. That’s the great thing about life; you never know what the future holds.

I put potato chips on sandwiches, am not above eating them for breakfast, and was once asked to leave a movie theater for sneaking ‘contra-ban’ in.

My friend, Ginger who lives in Philadelphia visits me every few months. She thinks I invite her because I enjoy her company. She would be sadly disheartened to find that I invite her because she can BUY Herr’s potato chips in Philadelphia.

We mere mortals from the sunshine state are denied the pleasure.

When I get to the airport, Ginger knows that before she is allowed to put her luggage in my trunk, she must produce proof that she smuggled potato chips over state lines. No chips. No ride.

I do not deny I have a problem. My pants shrink by the day, and last week when I coughed, my button went flying off my jeans like a projectile.

But, I can’t stop.

I had settled into my comfort zone. I was happy with what I had.

Then, Pringles decided to get all fancy.

They introduced Pringles Select. These little chips from heaven boast ZERO trans-fat.

They come in four flavors. Szechwan barbecue, Parmesan garlic, Cinnamon sweet potato and Sun dried tomato.

All in the name of research, I purchased a bag of each. I also filled out an expense report for reimbursement, but for some reason, my boss has yet to approve it.

I ate them all. All four bags.

Not in one sitting! I’m not a pig!

I ate them in TWO sittings.

I sat, I ate. I got up, played with my kids for an hour and sat again. Two sittings.

First for the good.

Szechwan barbeque is actually made of rice, not potato. Who cares? A carb by any other name is just as sweet. These babies are GOOD. They are tangy, yet spicy. It was like a little party in my mouth. They definitely earned a spot on my regular grocery list.

The parmesan garlic is parmesany and garlicky. And delish! Finger licking good, delish. They are putting up the good fight to knock Salt & Vinegar Lays out of first place for my heart.

And now for the not so good.

The cinnamon and sweet potato taste neither like a potato, nor cinnamon. Discuss.

They actually taste like cardboard with cinnamon flavored baby powder on them. And excuse me for pointing out the obvious here, but aren’t potato chips supposed to be salty?

If I wanted dessert (which I do) I will eat cake (which I do)

The sun dried tomato and basil wins the blech award.

I like the sun. I like tomatoes. I like basil. I just don’t like them all baked on to a chip.

But, don’t take my word for it. Head over and buy yourself a bag or two!

Send me the receipt! I’ll see if I can get you reimbursed!

Until we meet again,

Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

How would you like your eggs?

mycoupons — Tue, 27 Mar 2007 06:11:45 -0400

If you were being sent to deserted island and could only take one item and one person- I suggest you take 1000 eggs and me.

My skin is so greasy, that you could literally fry an egg on it. GROSS!!

I saw my dermatologist last week. I again complained about my oily skin.

I have tried no less than fifteen soaps, lotions, and creams.

No matter what I did, my skin always looked like I had slathered on olive oil.

After hearing my rant, my dermatologist asked which I wanted first, the good news or the bad news.

I never know how to answer this question! I mean, if I take the good news first, no matter how elated I am, I will still be feeling queasy, because I know the bad news is just around the corner.

On the other hand, if I take the bad news first, I’ll be so pre-occupied with the horror I just heard that I will not get to relish in the good news to follow.

I opted for the bad news first.

“There is really not much more you can do.”

Ok. So I have been sentenced to life as a grease face. There are worse things, I suppose.

And the good news?

“You won’t have wrinkles when you get old!”

Well slap my butt and call me Sally! You mean when I am ninety-six peeing in my pants and calling out to my cat that died three decades earlier, I’ll still have the face of a thirty year old? Albeit a greasy one?? Sign me up!

Not exactly good news to me.

I care what my skin looks like now. Will I care what my skin looks like 60 years from now? I doubt it. 60 years from now, the only thing I plan on caring about is whether I wake up every day.

“There is one last thing you can try.” Dr. Death told me. “St. Ives apricot scrub.”

I started wondering how to book a flight to St. Ives, wherever that was, and how I was going to get their scrubby apricots back through customs.

“You can get it at Wal-Mart.” He offered.

Wal-Mart?!?!

I have had prescriptions filled for creams that have removed the top layer of my skin, prescriptions for soap that contained more alcohol than my dorm room refrigerator, and a $200 non-insurance covered prescription for a lotion that I had to wear GLOVES to apply. And he is telling me the holy grail of face cleansers is sold at Wal-Mart???

Off I went. To Wal-Mart (Not St. Ives) I picked up a bottle for less than $5.

I took it home, and was impressed that I didn’t have to don protective hazmat gear to apply it. I wet my face with warm water and started scrubbing. The scrub is made from apricot pits, and is very dry and rough. Once I rinsed it off, I did not look greasy.

I went about my next task, and when I checked the mirror ten minutes later, I was still NOT greasy.

An hour later, no oil. For the rest of the day, I remained oil free!

That was last Monday. It has now been a week, and I can honestly say that I am NOT oily. I use the scrub twice a day- morning and night and I look SO much better.

I emailed my dermatologist this morning: (He is a life-long friend of my parents, so I can talk to him like this!)

Dear Dr. Death,

I wanted to thank you and let you know that the St.Ives apricot scrub is working! My face is not oily, and I am so happy to have found this wonder wash! My skin is as dry as a desert, and I love it. Seeing as how I am a ‘have my cake and eat it too’ kinda girl, I was wondering if I could still retain the right to have no wrinkles when I am old.

P.S. I think it only fair that you take me on the next drug company paid vacation you are treated to. Since I have been your guinea pig for the last ten years, while you used my face to sell expensive prescriptions, I think you owe me this.

Sincerely,

Cici

He replied this evening:

Dear Cici,

How does Barbados in the spring sound? And, sorry to burst your bubble, but you were going to get wrinkles anyway. I was just trying to make you feel better.

Love,

Dr. Death.

I’m going to wash my face!

Until we meet again,
Cici
Cici@MyCoupons.com

I shaved my legs for this??

mycoupons — Tue, 20 Mar 2007 06:34:57 -0400

I am going to share something very private.

What I am going to tell you may shock you. It may send an image to your brain that you will not soon erase. It may make you wish you had stopped reading right here.

I do not shave my legs.

I have not shaved my legs since 1999.

I do not, however, have hair on my legs. No, no, I was not born a hairless monkey. I get my legs waxed.

It is my guilty ~~self-inflicted, gut wrenching horror~~ pleasure.

It all started in the summer of 1999. My friend, Nicole was going to get her legs waxed and invited me to join her. I watched in utter disgust as the esthetician smeared hot wax on Nicole's legs and then placed muslin (fabric) over the wax. Nicole hardly flinched when the woman ripped a foot long piece of fabric off her leg.

the esthetician asked if I would like to go next.

My memory escapes me, but I believe my words were

"HELL NO!"

Actually, I am quite certain there was an expletive in there somewhere.

Nicole promised it hardly hurt, if at all. She raved about the smoothness of her legs, and the freedom she felt of tossing her razor in the garbage pail! No longer shackled by the chains of shaving cream and razor burn, she was free at last!

With enthusiasm like that, how could I resist? (Are you seeing a pattern here? Remember Sara and the Zicam?)

So, I made an appointment. When I booked the appointment, it was for a month later. I had to abstain from shaving for the next month!

In hindsight, I probably should have waited for a more appropriate month, like February, to make such a vow.

But, it was June; my appointment was for July 5th. I would be celebrating America's freedom and my freedom from leg hair all within a 48 hours period!

July 5th arrived, and I looked like a Lillith Fair attendee. My leg hair had grown past the 'gross' stage, and was now in the 'That's her lifestyle' stage. As I walked into my appointment, I could actually feel the wind blowing through my leg hairs.

Gina, the esthetician called me back, and had me get on the table. I lay down, and she asked if I was ready. Ready?! Yes! Nicole said it would hardly hurt, if at all.

Gina started by smoothing warm wax on my lower right calf. It actually felt nice. She was using a very large popsicle stick, and gently spreading the wax. Then Gina took a piece of muslin, and laid it over the wax. She gently rubbed the fabric over the wax, and patted it a few times for good measure. So far, so good. I was getting a hot oil massage. Then....

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip.

I let out a sound that nature cannot duplicate. It was akin to a gorilla giving birth to a six headed full term hippopotamus. Without an epidural.

Gina jumped back, surprised. Surely I was not the first client to feel a slight amount of mild discomfort?

I looked at the fabric, and saw 12 inches of my long, black leg hairs hanging on for dear life. I reached down to feel my leg, only I couldn't. My leg was numb!

She had paralyzed me!!

Panic set in, and I began to get nervous. Gina assured me the numbness was only temporary, and within seconds, I re-gained feeling in my bald spot.

I wish I hadn't.

It felt like someone had, well, ripped my hairs out by the root. Fat baby! It hurt!

Gina picked up her popsicle stick covered in death goo and motioned for me to lie back down. Sicko! Was she insane? There was NO way she was doing THAT again.

Gina 1, Cici 0.

She did it again. And again, and again and again. After a mere 35 minutes, I had not one single hair to speak of from the knees down.

As I wrote a check for $40, I felt foolish. I was PAYING someone to torture me.

I went home, with very smooth legs, took two Advil and slept for the rest of the day.

Over the next few days, my legs stayed smooth. And two weeks later, they were still smooth.

They say you forget the pain of child birth, or no one would ever have more than one child.

Evidently, you also forget the pain of waxing, as I went back.

Six weeks later, I was staring at the tiled ceiling of Gina's salon, going through the motions all over again.

After the 4th year, it stopped hurting. I think that the wax has pulled the nerve endings from my legs.

I have since moved from Gina's city, and had to find a ~~torture maid~~ esthetician in my new 'hood.

I found one.

She is a large German woman, and I sincerely think she relishes in causing pain.

She asked me last month if I wanted the 'Valentine's Day special.'

Since this is a family blog, I won't share the torrid details of the special, but I will tell you that it involved waxing very scary things. I passed.

She asked if I wanted my mustache waxed too. I declined, and she said

"But you look like a man!"

Gee, thanks.

My point? Throw out your razors, and go get waxed! Your legs will look the best they ever have, and feel smooth.

I now only have to go every 8-10 weeks, and my hair grows soft and fine, not hard and stubble like.

Make sure you find an Esthetician- someone who is state licensed in skin care. The salon should be clean, bright and use auto-clave sanitation.

I conducted very scientific research (Ok, I called friends in three other states) and came to the conclusion that the average cost is $50.00 per visit.

Don't forget to tip!

And don't worry; it hardly hurts... if at all. <Snicker>

Until we meet again,

Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

No, it's not my new mode of transportation!

mycoupons — Tue, 13 Mar 2007 06:30:12 -0400

I have an illness. Beyond my cancers, meningitis and avian bird flu.

I love clean floors. There I said it.

My cleaning lady only comes every two weeks, but I vacuum and mop almost daily.

My entire house is tile and hardwood, and I have 2 cats, 2 kids and a husband.

I have tried almost every mop there is to buy. Swiffer, Clorox, Libman, sponge, string, you name it. And I always ended up with one of two things- not so perfect floors, or a smelly stinky mop in my laundry room. After a few days of moisture, the mop starts to smell like a wet dog.

My mother told me to try a 'Cuban mop.' Ok, I am always ready for a new adventure, and I love cuban food, how bad could their mops be?

I am here to tell you that as long as I live, I will NEVER use another mop in my life. I am a Jewish girl with an Italian husband and Cuban mop.

I found my mop at my grocery store. It came with a hefty price tag- $2.99. Don't pay more than $5- some places online are asking upwards of $12. Trust me, you can find them cheaper!

What is it? It's a stick.

Yes, a stick. Think broom handle with a bar across the top.

You dunk a towel in you choice of cleaning solutions, wring it out, wrap it around the head, and go to work.

It did a BEAUTIFUL job on my floors, I think the bath towel picked up EVERY speck of dirt on my floor.

For my own curiosity, I used a white towel. I mopped with my OLD mop yesterday. I used my white towel contraption today. The towel was black when I was done.

Guess my old mop didn't do the trick.

The absolute BEST part about this mop? When you are done, you can throw the towel in the wash! No more wet dogs hiding in my linen closet!

Learning how to tie the towel around the mop head can be a tricky- unless you used to be a Boy Scout. But, any variation of keeping the towel on the bar will work.

Take it from me, the queen of mops, this is the FOO-SHNICKENS.

Happy mopping!

Until we meet again,
Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

Happy to be stuck with you

mycoupons — Tue, 06 Mar 2007 11:15:45 -0500

I plead guilty. By reason of insanity. I don't know what possessed me to get cheap. Maybe it was the cute packaging with cartoon bugs on it. Maybe it was the rock bottom price, maybe it was a momentary lapse in judgment. Whatever the reasons, it was wrong. I KNEW it was wrong. The end did not justify the means.

I cheated. I thought what I had was not good enough. I assumed that the grass was greener in someone else's yard. I was mistaken.

I bought diapers that did not say 'HUGGIES' on the package. <Audible gasp>

CVS lured me in. They know my weakness, and they prey upon that. They KNOW I am powerless to their antics. The words 'Buy one get one free' are eye candy to me. I would bring home two boxes of roaches, if they were BOGO.

How bad can they be, I wondered. Playskool is a recognizable brand. Half the toys in my house have that name on them. I grew up with Playskool toys. I trusted them. They wronged me.

CVS and Hasbro struck a deal in June of 2006 to exclusively market the Playskool brand of baby care items at CVS. Items available are diapers, wipes, cups, pacifiers, and other assorted sundries.

My local CVS offered these new products as BOGO. Matched with my $10 in Extra Care Bucks, I got two bags of diapers for free. In essence, these free diapers cost me more than I'll ever know.

Using my son to exploit my desires, I took him home and put him on his changing table. I proceeded to remove his bone dry Huggies and replace it with a fresh new Playskool diaper. He knew I was up to something. Sadly, his diaper is not usually changed until I realize he is on one side of the room, and his nine pound diaper is on the other. Most days he walks around with the sheer weight of his wet diaper fighting gravity.

I'm a second time parent. My daughter was changed every two hours whether she needed it or not. Wiped clean, powder, lotion and diaper rash cream were applied perfectly. With my son, my husband and I have an unspoken game.

We have never discussed the rules or regulations, or even acknowledged that the game exists. But, we both know it does. It's called ' who can pretend they didn't realize the baby needs to be changed the longest.' The view of my poor son walking around like he has a cantaloupe between his legs is merely a warm-up. It's when he decides he has other business to attend to that the real game begins. There could be flies swarming around him before one of us will flinch, and change him. But, I digress.

As I diapered my son in his new duds, I noticed that the artwork on these new diapers is very feminine. Not a problem if you have a girl, but if you have a son, it is a bit girly. The diapers are covered in a light purple swirl- almost flower like print.

I also noticed that they seemed narrow. My son is healthy. He is not overweight, but he is meaty. So meaty in fact that we have cashed in our 401 (K). We figure with a build like his, he is our golden parachute. First round draft pick for the Steelers, indeed.

So narrow diapers and ba-dunk-a-dunk baby booty are not a match made in heaven. I proceeded, calling myself a diaper snob. I went to fasten the tabs onto the diaper. The left one ripped off in my hand. Ok, ok, I was just excited. I did not realize my own strength. I just reached for flower power diaper number two.

Diaper number two. The left tab, though very small and limpy, closed fine. As for the right tab, well, let's just say, it was no longer attached to the diaper by the time I had my way with it. It was stuck. With invisible glue. So, I gave it a little tug, and off it came. Perfect.

By this point, my son was looking at me quizzically, not quite sure why he was exposed and cold on the changing table. He seemed to be trying to make sense of the fact that I had just removed a perfectly good, dry diaper from his bottom, and was attempting to replace it with a broken one.

On to diaper number THREE. It was backwards. No kidding. The tabs were sewn onto the FRONT of the diaper. Go figure. Diaper number four. No problems. All parts were present and accounted for, and in the correct location. I closed the diaper, pulled up my sons' pants, and went about my day.

Eight minutes later, I noticed my son's butt was soaking wet. Off with his pants, I realized his right butt cheek was not covered by diaper. The poor child had a diaper wedgie. An ATOMIC diaper wedgie even. And of course, when he went pee-pee, ( tinkle? Wee-wee? whizzies?) the urine shot right down the inseam of his diaper and down his leg.

On to diaper number FIVE and a new outfit. The Taco Bell that my son had for lunch ( I'm kidding- it was Chicken and Stars!..jeez) kicked in about 20 minutes later. Let's just suffice it to say that the aftermath of that incident required a bath and the assistance of a professional carpet cleaning service. (Free Diapers now cost me $85!)

After his bath, I put a Huggies on him, and sat down to call Playskool. I was going to give them a piece of my mind. I was going to DEMAND a full refund of my FREE diapers. I was going to threaten litigation.

Once I explained my plight to the customer service representative- she went on to tell me that there have been 'THOUSANDS of complaints' and that "Quality control was looking into improvements.' Well, then. Whatever.

I asked what I should do with these packs of diapers, since one was missing five. She reminded me they were a CVS exclusive product, so I could return both to the store no questions asked. She then offered to send me a coupon good for a free bag of diapers. Well, OK! Sign me up! I'll take free! I'll just trade it on the coupon board!

I returned both bags to CVS, and they really didn't ask me any questions. I guess I was not the first unhappy diaper purchaser.

I am happy to inform you that we are back in Huggies. Never to stray again. Cost is no object. I am brand loyal to a fault. We started diapers as a Huggies family, and we will end diapers as a Huggies family.

Then again, I see Walgreen's is having a good deal on LUVS next week.......

Until we meet again,
Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

Paging Dr. Morgan, please pick up the white courtesy phone

mycoupons — Tue, 27 Feb 2007 11:15:16 -0500

I'm sick.

Again.

My daughter is a walking magnet for germs. She is in pre-school and picks up every sniffle, sneeze and cough that comes into the school. Being my daughter, she is a giver. So, she shares with me. We have been sick about 14 times since September.

Yesterday, I felt the twinge in my throat. That dry feeling when I swallowed. You know the feeling. Don't you? Your throat goes dry and your inner voice says "Uh oh- I'm getting sick." Try all you want, it's coming at you like a train, and you are helpless. You cannot stop it, and you just KNOW you are going to wake up tomorrow feeling worse. Mentally, you think about the next week, and fret about the plans you have, and how the timing of this couldn't be worse.

I was talking to my friend Sara (Of car shopping fame) last night, and told her our weekend plans of fun and sun may be put on hold due to my untimely illness.

"Go get some Zicam!" She insisted. "It really works."

Now, as much as I love Sara, she is what some might refer to as..um.. different. At any given time, you can find herbal remedies in her purse, and she always smells like incense.

"Sara, I really don't believe in that alternative medicine stuff." I told her.

"Cici! Just try it. It really works, and it's safe. I mean, I'm not a doctor, but I know it works." She droned.

"Really?!?! You're NOT a doctor??? All along, I thought for sure you were performing cardiothoracic surgery when you said you were at yoga class! What a shocker!" I said.

"FINE! Be that way. And be sick! See if I care!" She said as she hung up on me abruptly. I assume she was paged to a GSW/MVA, complete with a chem 7, type and cross and a lavage. (I watch ER too much)

I spent the night coughing and sneezing, and feeling like I got run over by a truck. When the morning light came in my windows, I got out of bed, pulled back the curtains, and prayed that I would see fourteen feet of snow on the ground; so I'd have an excuse to stay in bed all day. There was no snow. I live in Florida. Darn global warming.

So I pulled myself out of bed, and went to CVS, to find some medicine to make me feel better. As I was reaching for a bottle of 'green death' (Nyquil) I saw Zicam.

Studying the wide array of choices, I felt sicker than before. Zicam comes in many forms. I could choose to spray it up my nose, or stick a cotton swab in my shnauz. As I guffawed at the thought, a woman next to me said "I use that! It really works!"

Do you know Dr. Sara Morgan, the world renowned cardiodthoracic surgeon? I wanted to ask.

Fine. I bought it. After much careful thought, I decided that sticking cotton swabs up my nose was not the route I wanted to go. I settled on the nasal mist.

Once I got home, I read the directions. Twice. The directions instructed me to place the bottle in my nose, and gently spray the fine mist into my nostril. DO NOT BLOW YOUR NOSE FOR 30 SECONDS! It warned me.

Ok. Here we go. I put the nozzle in my nose, and after 5 minutes of nerves, I accidentally squeezed too hard and sprayed it. OH. MY. GOD. What a horrible feeling that was! I had never used a nasal spray before. I swear I felt in my brain. Immediately, my eyes began to water, and my mouth tasted like I just ate a handful of pennies.

My nose started to run like a track star, and my first instinct was to grab a nearby paper towel and blow it. Then I quickly remembered the warning to NOT blow my nose. What would happen? Would my eyes pop out? Would my brain leak? Panic set in as I began to get lightheaded. I thought I was going to faint.

Instead of blowing my nose, I breathed out hard, with my mouth closed- like a raging bull. That only made it worse. After 30 seconds passed, I blew my nose for about three minutes. I also brushed my teeth and washed my face. There was NO WAY I was about to attempt that stunt with nostril number two. The Zicam went into the garbage.

Does it work? I don't know. Obviously the manufacturer intended for it to be used on BOTH nasal passages, every four hours. One nasal passage was enough for me, thank you very much.

Do I feel better? No. I feel worse. As I write this, my 'normal adult dosage', (plus a little extra for mommy) of Nyquil is kicking in. I should be asleep within the next ten minutes.

Sara can have her homeopathic spray of death. I'll stick to my green coma inducing juice. Talk to you next week when I wake up.

Until we meet again,

Cici

Cici@MyCoupons.com

P.S. My boss is starting to think that no one reads this except for my mom, and Sara (because she likes seeing her name in print) SO PLEASE, leave your comments!! See that little bubble under the title? Just click it and type! Nice comments are welcome, and appreciated. Negative comments will make me sad. Do you want that on your conscience?